


I Won't Say I'm In Love

by Batmanfan11



Category: Batman (Comics), Superman (Comics)
Genre: Fluff, Kisses, M/M, hercules au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-07 08:58:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5450900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batmanfan11/pseuds/Batmanfan11
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Happy Holidays!<br/>This is my contribution for the Superbat Secret Santa!<br/>We have a Hercules AU with Clark as Hercules and Bruce as Meg during the scene where Meg is trying to figure out what Hercules's weaknesses are! He's soon to learn that he's the weakness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Won't Say I'm In Love

The sky had turned into a hue of blue as it gently mixed with oranges, reds, and purples, creating a beautiful sun set. The sky made a master piece every night as the last lights touched the earth and let the creatures rest in peace. The cool summer air surrounded the two bypassers as they took quiet steps down a marble stair case. The sleek feel under their fingers was only one of the superb qualities of the stairs. The mix match coloring and spots played with their minds, forming faces, animals, and heroes into the marble. As wonted as it was it did not change the fact that it was as beautiful as the stunning statues in the fishpond.

Bruce wrapped the shawl around his shoulders as he patted his way down the stair case. His lavender dress swiped by his ankles and got caught on his sandal straps. He would have to fix that later, he thought as he looked over to his companion.

A champion stage named, Hercules, though his real name was Clark--How fitting for a man with a past on a farm. What Bruce had learned about Clark through their numerous visits was that Clark was the son of Jor-El, King of the Gods, and Lara-El, Queen of the Gods. He was brought down to earth by a pair of kidnappers, who were unnamed, to be killed once turned into a mortal. Clark, however, never turned all the way mortal and kept his god like strength through out his life. He was than found and adopted by a pair of farmers. He was guided by his father's spirit once he found out that he was from godly descent and was sent to an island to learn about how to become a true hero so he could regain his immortality and be with his parents once more. Bruce thought this was a charming tale for this humble hero.

He was trying so hard to be accepted as a god and return to his parents that he was willing to risk his life for complete strangers. Bruce was almost baffled by his generosity and compassion.

He turned his head to look back at his companion, still awestruck by their afternoon alone.

"Wow. What a day. First that restaurant by the bay-"

Bruce nodded, enjoying the sound of Clark's calm voice.

Clark took a few steps down then as did Bruce, following a few steps behind. "-and then that, that play, that" he stuttered, "that Oedipus guy. Golly! And I thought I had problems!" Clark turned to look at Bruce, making sure he was listening to him. **  
**

Bruce chuckled along, remembering the tale of the Oedipus. The poor man was sent out as a babe because he was destined to kill his father. The poor man ended up marrying his own mother, killing his father, and then gauging out his eyes in anguish. Bruce almost felt pity for the man. How awful it must be to be reunited with your parents because you married your mother and killed your father. Bruce shook his head to rid himself of such a notion when his eyes fell on a few brightly colored birds washing in the bird bath. 

The two then faced Bruce and turned into hideous creatures with large smiles on their faces.

"Hehe, stop fooling around!" One bird silently commanded.

"Get the goods, brother!" The other followed.

When Clark turned his head to stare back at Bruce, the two birds went back to washing and Bruce turned away like nothing had happened.

With his innocence still in his grasp, Clark did not look like someone who was suffering from his actions; even when these actions saved lives. He was still so honest, so pure, so full of hope and life. He was so sure he was on the right path; on the path to becoming a true hero. He was sweet and humble and kind and never turned a blind eye on even the more notorious of people. He was the shining light that Greece needed to regain faith in the Gods once more. Bruce hated the idea of teasing him, lying to him, cheating and swindling him into giving him his secrets. Bruce had to realize long ago, though, that good deeds never left you with a happy ending.

"I didn't know that playing hooky could be so much fun. " Clark had stepped off the marble steps and onto the floor. The last lights of the evening were finally falling behind the horizon as it gave Clark it's final glow of the day as if it was thanking him for his presence. The city of Thebes will always be grateful of him.

Bruce smiled. "Yeah. Neither did I." For once, he was telling the truth. This was suppose to be a professional outing with flirting and secret telling but he had found himself melting into his warm embrace. His laughter, his smile, his eyes, and his heart had Bruce in a hold and he didn't know whether he liked it or not.

"Thank you, Bruce," Clark said sincerely.

Oh no. Bruce turned his eyes down and spoke softly, "Oh-Don't thank me yet." He was going to finish his sentence when he found the perfect opportunity to get his information and regain his freedom. He fell forward, lunging himself into Clark's arms, crying in pain over his weak ankles.

 Clark was too gentleman like to even register that fact that it seemed a bit dramatic.

"Oh, be careful, Bruce."

He scuffed and looked up at him; his best lustful eyes were in place.

"Sorry," He whispered, "weak ankles." 

Clark blushed across his defined cheek bones. His father had taught him well on how to handle people with care and his contributions to the city had only defined them. He had caught Bruce by his lower and upper back, keeping him close to his metal clad chest. Even with the chest plate in front, Clark could patently feel Bruce's heart beat against his own racing heart. He was a very beautiful man, Clark could not lie. From his black, long eye lashes to his weak ankles, Bruce could deftly put Aphrodite out of the job. Though they've only known one another for a few months, Clark could feel himself falling in love with the mysterious man.

"O-Oh yeah?" He questioned with no intentions of getting a response, "Well maybe you should sit down for a while."

He bent down and picked Bruce up in a hold with his whole body in the air. Bruce had no trouble wrapping his arms around Clark's neck, giving him a provocative grin. He whispered a thank you before being set down on a rocky bench. His bottom felt chilly against it's bumpy surface but he couldn't let that get to him now. He needed to get down to business and find Clark's weak spot. His freedom will not be won by clean hands.

"So," Bruce silently turned to his side, letting his arms stretch across the top of the bench. His hands started to playfully twirling the light shawl as his knees pointed toward his target. Clark had sat down after putting him down, looking almost stiff to the bones. Poor boy was probably nervous as he should be when he's in the presence of Bruce Wayne. "Do you have any problem with things like-" He swiftly flung one long leg in front of the hero's face, "this."

Now Bruce almost felt the awkwardness radiate off of Clark and hit him square in the face.

His whole face had scrunched up and his blush had only gotten redder. Clark told him that he had been training since he was 16; he must of never had any romantic presences before now. This was going to be so easy. 

Clark looked down at the pointed leg and then back at Bruce, pleading.

"Weak ankles, I mean," Responded Bruce, wickedness and seduction had clouded his eyes.

"Oh, uh no. Not really," Clark chuckled, gently lowering the leg down. Bruce helped him along the way as he scooted his whole body closer to Clark, letting his voice drop a few pitches.

"Not weaknesses whatsoever? No-" Bruce landed two fingers on Clark's knee and dug into his skin, "trick knee." Clark moved further back. He was scared and Bruce found that delicious.

"No ruptured-" Bruce landed a flat hand on Clark's breast, moving in closer so that their noses could touch if they had turned the right way. Bruce was using every thing he had to either seduce or frighten the truth out of Clark. He was a kind and naive young boy and Bruce was hungry for freedom. "disk?" He could feel the strap of his dress fall down. Than he felt the faint feel of Clark's fingers move it back up without even running his hands over his skin.

Bruce heard him gulp.

"Uh no- no, I'm I'm afraid I'm, uh- fit as a fiddle." Clark chuckled as he moved up and away from Bruce, walking toward the small pond in the middle of the grotto. Bruce deflated. How could that not of worked? He's always been able to seduce men and women when he didn't want their attention but the one time he did, the man wasn't having any of him. It was infuriating.

He grunted and stood up to walk to him to the fish pond. "Wonderboy, you are perfect."

"Thanks," was his only replay has he single handedly broke off the arms of a famous statue of Venus while skipping a stone into the pond. If it were anyone else, it would of reflected back and landed back into the pond. But Clark was no ordinary man. Even with the arms broken off, her beauty still shined through the cracks and marble. Bruce leaned against Clark by his elbow and turned his head the same time as Clark. A graceful smile passed Bruce's lips. "It looks better that way. No, it really does." He rarely spoke so carefree about something like beauty and grace but the statue had a sort of pull at his heart. That certain goddess always had a hold on him, good and bad.

Clark looked back away from the statue and placed one leg on the edge of the pond's rim. He leaned on his knee and stared profoundly at the water. 

"You know, when I was a kid I," he bashfully looked at the other side of the pond's water, not wanting to look at Bruce's reflection, "I would have given anything to be exactly like everybody else."

Bruce turned away from him. How could he lie to the kid?

"You wanted to be petty and dishonest?" Bruce whispered as his head hung low.

Clark turned in surprise, his face going to pure confusion. This man was nothing what he just said. He was honest, loyal, brave, and fun. He knew how to party the night away while still making sure every turn was a surprise. He was there for him in his most serious talks and his most funniest jokes. How could Bruce consider the whole mortal race as petty and dishonest when he existed?

"Everybody's not like that." Clark retorted.

Bruce turned to him, despondency filling his eyes.

"Yes they are."

Clark stepped closer to him, taking Bruce's hands in his. He laid them against his metal chest, squeezing the knuckles together with a painful realization. How could this perfect being think of himself as nothing.

"You're not like that."

"How do you know what I'm like?"

Clark thought for a long moment. How could he answer his question. How could he put to words the way he felt when he was around him, like he was walking on air? Like his heart was beating out of his chest? Like his hands finally stop shaking when he gets to hold his? Words jumbled in and out of his mind, trying to find the right way to make it work. He really wished he had more time to write it out so he can try to seriously put his feelings to words. Maybe even in a poem but alas, he had a mere 20 seconds to come up with something romantic.

"Bruce," He started, pulling Bruce closer to him, "All I know is, you're the most amazing person with weak ankles I've ever met." He placed a hand down to hold Bruce's lower back. He slowly pressed their chests together as the truth slowly crawled out of him. The raw truth was always bitter sweet to say out loud. "When I'm with you I-I don't feel so alone."

Genuine love and interest was dangerous. Little red flags popped up in Bruce's mind, telling him to move, shove him away. So he did just that, slipping out of Clark's warmth and back into the chilly night air. He walked back to the edge of the pond and looked into the reflection that the water created. He wasn't that young boy that gave his soul to Hades all those years ago. He had grown to understand the ugly truth about love, people, and Gods. There was never a winning side for mortals.

"Sometimes it's better to be alone." The truth made Bruce numb.

"What do you mean?" Clark asked, walking to stand behind Bruce's back, looking into the sad reflection of the water.

"Nobody can hurt you." It felt like venom was sipping out of his mouth.

Clark turned Bruce by his shoulder till they were facing each other, inches away. Their eyes might be the same color but their intentions for one another were completely different. Bruce could feel the guilt as he couldn't continued to hurt Clark, to hurt himself.

"You know I would never hurt you, Bruce," Clark whispered sincerely. 

Their breaths slowly tangled together, pulling them closer. Bruce couldn't stop himself from talking.

"And I don't wanna hurt you, so," He started to close his eyes as he felt his arms wrap around Clark's neck, "let's both do ourselves a favor and," _Is that my heart or his?_ "stop this before we-"Bruce couldn't stop the melting factor of Clark's fingers digging into his sides. He was strong but yet he was treating him like he was the daintiest flower. A man that could kill him in a second was treating a sinner like himself with more caution than the artist did on the sculpture of Augustus of Prima Porta. This was almost better than freedom.

Almost.

Comet the horse along with a woman called Kara came down, crashing the party of the two young lovers. The woman couldn't of been much older than 25 with shoulder length blonde hair. Her muscular body was shown prominently through her thin dress. With her calf's showing and a sash around her chest, Bruce could make out that this was in fact Clark's trainer. She was a kind woman from what Clark had told him but every interaction he had with her was nothing more but unpleasant. She didn't seem to trust any one around Clark, someone she had grown to call cousin, friend, and even brother at times. It was heart warming to see the two with such a close relationship but it also irked him a little.

As for the horse, well, it spoke for itself. It was a magnificent white stallion with a beautiful mane and two large wings. It was a work of art that was made in pure seconds by the hands of Jor-El himself. Bruce was not a fan of flying and it wasn't a fan of him so the two never got along well.

"All right! Break it up! Break it up! Party's over! I been looking all over this town for you, kid!" Kara angrily yelled.

Bruce stepped away from Clark and got up close and personal to the horse and the trainer.

"Calm down, mutton woman! It was all my fault." Bruce pointed to himself, squinting into the darkness. The star light wasn't bright enough to illuminate Kara's anger and frustration but Bruce made a fairly good guess.

He saw Kara hop down the horse and yelled at him, "You're already on my list, sister, so don't make it worse," before walking up to Clark. She grabbed his arm and started pulling him toward the horse. Comet and Bruce already had their little squabble once Clark and Kara walked over. He could hear her voice ring in his ears.

"And as for you, ya bum, you're gonna go to the stadium and you're gonna be put through the workout of your life! Now get on the horse."

Clark seemed to still be in a dream state but stopped himself before he leaving Bruce's personal bubble once again. 

"Okay, okay." His voice was like sweet honey coated in sugar. It made Bruce feel funny in his stomach.

He turned behind them and plucked a single flower out of a tree. The bark bent at its mercy as it swayed backwards hard when it was released. Bruce couldn't help but interject himself into their goodbyes.

"I'm sorry."

"Ah, he'll get over it." Clark handed him the white flower.

Through the many gifts Bruce had received over the years not one of them was be a flower. It was always gold, diamonds, money, power. All things that meant wealth and money and "Hey, I have enough money to blow on giving you pointless gifts." But a flower was something different and it left an odd feeling in his stomach. It wasn't expensive and it wasn't hand crafted. It wasn't hard to find and it wasn't covered in gold. It was a single white flower plucked from an ordinary tree. But yet the significance of it was greater than all the gold and silver in the world.

Then, something amazing happened.

Bruce got his kiss.

Not long. Not passionate. Not daring. Not bold. Not hot. 

Just a peck to the cheek where he could faintly feel the tip of Clark's nose.

The last thing he could remember was the wind riding up his dress as Comet, Kara, and Clark took off.


End file.
